Red Pavilion of My Heart
by psychobabblers
Summary: PostDH. Harry is relieved to have a summer to himself away from the well-meaning concern of his friends and the prying eyes of the wizarding world. However, he finds that he won't be so alone after all when he takes a step down an alley one dark night...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A heads up before you start reading: **

**This is a WIP and will not have regular updates. (I do have a general idea of how the plot will go though.)**

**It will most likely stray to a T rating eventually, but I am still deciding whether it will be slash.**

**And on a side note, this is my first attempt at the Harry Potter fandom.**

* * *

Harry Potter was walking down the street late one night (or possibly early one morning), returning home from a party. Everyone had been there. Most of the younger Weasleys, Ron and Hermione of course, Neville who he hadn't seen in awhile, Luna who he affectionately thought was still as strange as ever, and Ginny. She had looked particularly pretty in a pale green dress that Luna had claimed complimented his eyes very well, ignoring their exasperated claims that they were no longer a couple.

His mind still on the night's revelries, he almost missed the faint shuffling sound from the alleyway. But one didn't learn to be unobservant when he'd been on the run in the woods with both the Ministry of Magic and Voldemort's forces hunting for him. So he resignedly decided that as trouble still stuck to him like a magnet, he might as well deal with whatever it was now rather than being woken up to do so later. Pulling out his wand, he took a careful step into the alley.

There didn't seem to be anything there. He hoped so anyway. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with a murderous Death Eater out to…well murder him. He'd had quite enough of that to last one lifetime, thank you very much. For now, he'd like to relax and try to piece together a life for himself. Preferably one that was dark wizard free.

Unfortunately, that was harder to do than expected, though thinking back now, he probably shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Harry had managed to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (who most still refused to call by his real name). Obviously he had a duty to destroy his followers too, as well as any and all other terrorist organizations that threatened the safety and security of the world. Right.

Whatever the case, he was hounded by the Auror office, the Prophet, as well as his fans, the number of which seemed to be increasing exponentially every day. Of course, his continued (mostly accidental) involvement in the roundup of deadly Death Eaters and the like didn't help. It wasn't like he went out looking for a fight. It wasn't his fault that random members of Voldemort's forces liked ambushing him so that he was forced to defend himself, win the resulting fight, and hand the stunned and bound Death Eater over to the Ministry. It was all getting a bit ridiculous. For one thing, he hadn't realized Voldemort had acquired such a large number of followers in so short a time.

Well at least he could take a break from all that now. Harry firmly resolved to return to Grimmauld Place and remain hiding—_resting_—there for the rest of the summer. After all, Hermione_ had _said he should get more sleep. And, there wouldn't be much to do in the outside world.

Hermione and Ron had gotten married that spring, and were departing on their honeymoon. Ginny was going on one of Luna's trips to catch a nargle. They'd invited him, but he'd bowed out, saying that he had had enough of camping and forests. The rest of the Weasleys were going to France to join Bill and Fleur in visiting Fleur's parents. This he was also invited to, but he'd declined this offer too. So finally, after much "Come with us! It'll be fun!" and "You should come too, Harry dear," and multiple other entreaties, Harry had finally managed to secure himself the rest of the summer alone for himself.

A whole summer to grieve in private. A whole three months to come to terms with the past, and map out his future. And though he would miss his friends, he needed that for himself. And anyway, it wouldn't be like before when he was stuck at the Dursleys'.

He should've known in wouldn't work out that way. He knew that noises in dark alleys at the dead of night usually indicated trouble.

He also knew that right now he was too tired to care. "_Lumos_," he whispered (though if they could see the light, they would know he was there regardless of how loudly he talked). A rusted dumpster that had seen better days slumped against the brick wall of the alley. He squinted. Strange shadows were stretched grotesquely out of proportion so that it was difficult to tell what they belonged to anymore.

"Um. Hello?" Harry called out. He heard a shuffling noise from behind the dumpster at the sound of his voice and he sighed, hoping that it was just a rat.

Gripping his wand more firmly, he moved carefully toward it. He stopped right in front of it and took a deep breath. Wand at the ready, he stepped around it—where his startled gaze fell upon none other than the last person Harry wanted to see in the world at the moment (other than "old snake-face" himself, as Ron would've put it).

Draco Malfoy.

Harry hesitated, unsure of what to do.

On one hand, he was Draco Malfoy. On the other hand, he looked terrible. On the other other hand, once the other man had gotten over his shock, he was sneering at Harry in a way so that Harry, even though he was standing over Malfoy who was sitting on the ground, felt like he was a bug that Malfoy had found squashed under his (very expensive) shoe. This wasn't exactly endearing him to Harry in any way. Especially as the familiar sneer was now accompanied by a cold stare.

He lowered the wand unconsciously to look more closely at Malfoy's face. There seemed to be a cut over his left eye, and there was dried blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Argh Potter," Malfoy snarled. "Get that light away from my face!"

Harry jerked his wand away and glared at him in annoyance. "I'm just trying to help."

"And I didn't ask for it. Now kindly remove yourself from here and leave me alone," Malfoy snapped.

The harsh statement was alleviated somewhat by a lithe gray tabby cat that had snuck up on them unheard and leapt into his lap, eliciting a very un-Malfoy-like yelp. Harry quashed an urge to laugh. He didn't seem to do a very good job of hiding it though because Malfoy flushed and his gaze, if anything, managed to get colder yet. The cat, despite attempts to dislodge it, remained sitting on him, and glared up at Harry too. He couldn't help but notice that their eyes were the exactly the same shade of gray.

Harry threw up his hands. "Look, Malfoy, I don't really like you—"

"—You're not my favorite person either," Malfoy interrupted snarkily.

"_I don't really like you_," Harry repeated over the interruption, "but there's obviously something wrong and—"

"—Oh, figured out that much have you?" Malfoy snapped.

"Would you quit interrupting me?" Harry exploded. The other man clenched his jaw and nodded, though he somehow managed to look smug even while sitting next to a dumpster in a dark alley in the middle of the night. "Look, if you need help, you can ask me, alright?"

Malfoy stared up at him, and for a moment there was not a trace of a sneer on his face. Harry almost allowed himself to hope that he would accept the help.

Then his face returned to its standard expression, and he said, almost wearily, "I said I don't need it. Now go away and stop bothering me." The cat hissed at Harry in agreement.

"Fine!" Harry said, exasperated. Turning on his heel, he stalked off, fuming silently to himself. He didn't even know why he had bothered in the first place. Obviously, Malfoy didn't want any help from him. In some ways he had been worse than Voldemort during their days at Hogwarts, constantly taunting and harassing him, whereas Voldemort had only appeared a few times during his dreams.

And caused the occasional hallucination. And murdered Harry's parents. And caused the deaths behind his godfather, Remus, Fred, Mad-Eye, Tonks, Dobby, Hedwig, and countless others. And attacked a school that was defended by mere _students_, with an entire army.

Unbidden, a memory of the Malfoy family huddled together in the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts, looking around at the celebrating wizards and witches around them and wondering whether they had the right to be there appeared in his mind.

Where were Malfoy's parents now?

Harry sighed. He looked longingly at his front door and imagined the cheerful fire Kreacher would have put on for him, his soft bed upstairs in his room. Then he thought of Malfoy sitting outside in that alley with a cut on his face and only a cat with the same color eyes as him keeping him company. He glanced once more at the door and turned once, closing his eyes and picturing the alleyway in his head…


	2. Chapter 2

Not wanting to startle Malfoy, Harry apparated near the entrance of the alley, rather than directly in front of the dumpster. It was a good decision, he thought, when he realized that Malfoy was no longer alone.

He wasn't slouched on the floor anymore either. Instead, he was standing with his back pressed against the wall. Absurdly, he was holding the cat, hands absently stroking it. There were two hulking Death Eaters flanking him. Harry felt a flash of confusion. Had he misread the situation?

That concern was alleviated when he carefully moved closer and heard Malfoy speak.

"This is who they sent?" he was asking incredulously, with a hint of wounded pride.

One of the Death Eaters scowled. "Shut up. We've been promoted since the last you saw us."

Malfoy sneered. "Oh that's right. The ranks _are_ becoming rather thin, aren't they. Well no wonder, if the only ones that are left are as incompetent as you two." He waved a hand dismissively at them. "Honestly, they'll let anyone join these days."

The two Death Eaters glared at him. "We don't have to listen to this. We follow orders, unlike some people. And you don't even have a wand."

Grey eyes stared coldly back, uncowed. "Do it then," Malfoy said softly. "Have you ever even used the Killing Curse before?"

The slightly smaller one suddenly grinned. "What's the hurry? We've been chasing you for the past few days. I doubt anyone will begrudge us some entertainment before we off you. And it's not like there's no one around to hear you scream. Not that anyone would lift a finger to help a Malfoy. _Cruc_—" Before he had a chance to finish the curse, Harry was already moving, stunning him quickly and then the other. They fell down in a heap at Malfoy's feet.

Harry almost rolled his eyes at how easy it was. "I hate to agree with you on anything Malfoy, but they really _will_ let anyone join these days." Grey eyes lifted from where they had been staring incredulously at the stunned Death Eaters on the ground.

"You're gaping," Harry said cheerfully.

Malfoy's mouth snapped shut with an audible click and his face resumed its customary sneer. "What are you doing here, Potter? I thought I told you that I didn't want your help."

"Would a simple 'thank you' honestly be too much to ask?" Harry retorted mildly, kneeling to make sure the fallen men were still breathing. One had cracked his head slightly when he had hit the ground and was bleeding sluggishly. Glad that Hermione had forced him to finally learn simple healing spells ("Honestly Harry, with how often you seem to be injured, you should at least know how to fix a cut!"), he quickly stopped the bleeding.

"Yes, it would." Malfoy eyed him curiously, "What in the world are you doing?"

"Um, making sure they're still alive?" Harry said. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He waved his wand and the Death Eaters were bound in thick ropes.

"I can see that; I have eyes Potter," Malfoy said acidly. "What I mean is _why_ are you doing that."

"Well I don't want to kill them."

"Why not? Have you forgotten that they're Death Eaters? That they were going to _torture and kill me_?"

"Yeah, well I'm not your bodyguard. It's not like I even got a 'thanks Potter' from you. And I seem to remember that you were a Death Eater once upon a time too."

Malfoy glared at him. From his arms, the cat glared at him too.

Confronted with a matching pair of reproachful grey eyes, Harry sighed and threw up his hands. "Look, I'm not going to kill them alright?"

Malfoy held his gaze for another moment before lifting a shoulder in an elegant shrug, as if the matter was already beneath his notice.

"Why are you here, Potter?" Malfoy asked again. His tone, while not exactly warm, wasn't clipped and frozen either.

Well, now was as good a time as any to make his offer. He just had to figure out how to word it. "Come with me," he said when the silence had stretched out for quite a few minutes and Malfoy looked like he was seriously considering whether Harry had fallen asleep with his eyes open and standing up.

Malfoy heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I already told you. I don't need your help. Nor do I want it."

"You weren't exactly complaining when I stunned your friends here." He nudged the one that had been about to cast the _Cruciatus Curse_ with a foot.

Malfoy looked away and Harry seized the opening.

"I'm just offering you a place to stay for the night. You're in no condition to be wandering around dark alleys. Come to my place, eat a hot dinner, and give yourself a chance to rest. You can leave in the morning if you want to. Alright?"

He couldn't believe his eyes when Malfoy caved and nodded his acceptance.

"Remind me to call the Aurors about them?" He asked casually, gesturing towards the bound and unconscious men as he grabbed Malfoy's arm before he could move, and then the world was spinning away until it rearranged itself into the doorstep of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.


	3. Chapter 3

Malfoy didn't say anything when they arrived at the house, just watched wordlessly as Harry unlocked the heavily ornate door and then stood aside to let Malfoy in first. Kreacher who was waiting for them in the hallway pulled up short at Harry's unexpected companion.

"Master Malfoy," he croaked, eyes wider than usual, "It is a pleasure to see you again."

Malfoy blinked in surprise — maybe at the fact that a house elf had spoken him without first being addressed — but what he said instead was, "Uh I don't think we've ever met. I haven't even seen you before," just as Kreacher continued with, "Such an old and noble house, the Malfoy family. Such pure blood." Malfoy shot Harry a look that somehow managed to be smug and bewildered at the same time, before deigning to give Kreacher a nod in acknowledgement.

Harry supposed that this was as polite as a Malfoy would ever be to a house elf and as much as he could hope for. At least he hadn't demanded Kreacher be punished for breaking the 'no speaking without first being spoken to rule'.

Then he remembered why Kreacher had seen him before without Malfoy seeing Kreacher (and it wasn't just because house elves were beneath Malfoy's notice) and hurriedly (and decidedly unsubtly) clapped a hand over Kreacher's mouth before he could continue.

"Kreacher could you get him something hot to drink please?" he said quickly, looked inquiringly at Malfoy.

"Tea," came the short reply.

"And one for me too, Kreacher, thanks."

Malfoy looked curiously over at Harry. "Still the beacon of kindness and equality, are you Potter?" he asked, a sardonic twist to his mouth. Then he seemed to remember something, "Oh good god, Granger isn't here, is she?" His expression became almost comically fearful.

Harry laughed. "No, it's just me and Kreacher here."

He recalled with nostalgia a time when everything had been simpler, when he thought he'd already had his fill of heartache and loss, before he had known who Sirius was and had a taste of what having a father must have been like, and when Hermione had punched Malfoy on the way to Hagrid's house in defense of a friend. It'd been a quite awhile since he'd thought of those times.

Once the floodgates opened, though, and a small trickle let out, there was no stopping the rest of the tide from following. So many bittersweet memories of loved ones long dead and ones just buried, memories that had been carefully locked away, threatened to overwhelm Harry. He hadn't had a chance to mourn them properly yet, had been too afraid to open the gates himself. Now they had been opened for him, and he knew that the time had come to properly honor the dead and release them to their peace.

But not here, and not in front of his present company, who he wasn't sure he could trust yet.

Funny how it was this same man who had caused the gates to open though, albeit unknowingly, when all the others who actually cared about Harry hadn't been able to.

And with that thought, the tide ebbed and flowed, and he was able to slam the doors shut once more.

"-and I hate to admit it, but I need your help. You have to promise to keep her away from me. Her and the Weasel both. Potter. Potter, are you even listening to me?" The wide, apprehensive gaze narrowed to annoyance. Apparently Malfoy had just continued blathering on, oblivious to Harry's sudden moment of grief. Harry felt a sudden rush of gratitude that Malfoy was here instead of say, Ginny. Not for his company, but because he was glad of someone who didn't know him well enough to (and didn't care to) recognize his pain. He didn't want any comfort right now, at least none that those living were able to provide.

He started when Malfoy snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Argh! What was that for, Malfoy!"

"What's wrong with you?" Malfoy snapped. "You look even more clueless than usual, Potter. I didn't think your brains could get any more scrambled, but I suppose even I have to be wrong sometimes."

Harry glared at him and was about to retort when Kreacher came back with the tea. Malfoy took one without hesitation and Harry noticed how his hands shook a little when he wrapped them around the cup. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, he hurriedly asked Malfoy if he wanted something to eat. He shook his head and they sat down in the sitting room and sipped at their tea in silence. It wasn't exactly companionable, but it wasn't awkward either.

When both their cups were empty and they had been sitting there without speaking for so long that it was threatening to _turn_ awkward, Harry glanced at the clock. It was close to 3:30 am. He looked at Malfoy. The other man was trying very hard not to let his eyes fall shut, but his exhaustion was obvious. He looked up when Harry said his name softly, his reply ("What do you want, Potter?") lacking its usual edge.

"I thought I'd show you to your room now," Harry said. "It's kind of late."

"Yes I can see that," Malfoy replied sarcastically with a glance at the clock.

Harry flushed with annoyance. "Fine then, sleep here on that armchair for all I care." See how your neck feels in the morning, he thought viciously.

Malfoy looked at him for a long moment before gracefully unfolding himself from where he had been leaning comfortably back into the chair, the cat held in his arms now instead of his lap. He lifted an elegant eyebrow at Harry's surprised expression. He certainly hadn't expected him to cave so easily.

"Lead on then, Potter," he said.

Malfoy followed him up the stairs, looking curiously at the gloomy, dark decor, his eyes lingering sometimes on a particularly gruesome Black heirloom that Harry hadn't gotten around to stuffing into an unused room somewhere yet, but making no comment. He was probably too tired to needle Harry anyway.

"You can have this one," Harry said, picking a room at random and opening the door.

"I'm in that one over there," he said, pointing at a door down the hall, "And you can always call Kreacher if you need anything."

The cat had jumped out of Malfoy's arms during this little speech and leapt onto the bed. Now it meowed approvingly at Harry and curled up on the covers.

"What's his name?" Harry asked curiously, nodding at the cat. "I hadn't taken you as an animal person," he admitted.

"I'm not, generally," Malfoy said, sitting on the bed and petting the cat. "And it doesn't have a name."

"Well you should give him one if you're going to keep him."

"I don't even know if it wants to stay with me; why would I bother giving it a name?"

"Well he obviously likes you, though I can't imagine why."

Malfoy looked up sharply at that, but relaxed when Harry just grinned at him.

"Why don't you name it something gray? You know, 'cause his fur is gray. Like...Pebble, or something," Harry suggested.

"Pebble," Malfoy repeated doubtfully.

"Dusty?" Harry offered. "Smog? Shadow? Iron? Industrial waste?"

"What's that?" Malfoy, who'd been looking tolerantly amused, asked.

"Never mind," Harry said, not wanting to bother to explain. He didn't really think Malfoy would be interested in the workings of factories and their environmentally harmful emissions anyway.

"The first one you said — _Pebble_, was it? — sounds fine to me," Malfoy said dismissively. "Though I still don't see why you insist on it needing a name."

Harry just shrugged. "It'll stop you from calling him an it at least."

"Why does that matter?" Malfoy grumbled (sounding quite a bit like a petulant child). "And how do you even know it's a he?"

"Um," Harry said.

"Did you check?"

"What? No!" Harry exclaimed. "Besides, how could I, when you've been clutching him to your person all night?"

"I have not," Malfoy said, offended, "been 'clutching him to my person all night.'"

"Whatever you say, Malfoy."

The conversation pittered off then into silence.

"Well good night then," Harry said, slightly awkwardly. "Good night Pebble," he called to the sleeping cat.

"Good night, Potter," Malfoy replied (and was that a small smile on his lips?) — and then promptly shut the door in Harry's face.

Harry stood outside the suddenly closed door for a moment, before shaking his head and laughing softly as he walked to his own room. Whoever would have thought that one day he would have Draco Malfoy in his house as a guest, and that they'd actually be able to have a (mostly) civil conversation with each other?


End file.
